Get Off My Back!
by Mr. Hyde Returns
Summary: Harry left his mafia family behind to pursue soccer. Now he's standing on the brink of sports superstardom, only his past catches up to him in the form of Draco Malfoy. Draco, heir to Slytherin wants to be the mafia boss...if his father would only die.


A/N: This is a rewrite of Light Me Down because I think that the original story sucks butt-monkeys. This one has a different plot but the basis of the warring mafias is still the same.

Characters will be switched around but there will be references to just about every Harry Potter canon character and some OCs but they aren't that big. Surprise pairings that will of course end with Harry/Draco because that's just how Harry Potter works.

Inspired by the World Cup but I'll try to keep soccer lingo from becoming overly confusing to those who don't play the sport. *shun the non-believers!*

T for now but could become M for sex, language, violence…etc.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own. If I did, it would be Harry Potter and the Chambers of Draco.

Harry padded out from the shower, running a hand through the damp hair. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he walked to the kitchen and located the coffee maker. The coffee inside was cold but not stale yet. Ginny had obviously gotten up much earlier than him for that party she was talking about all week. Socialite. The newspaper, rifled through, lay on the counter next to the coffee machine.

Harry already knew what it was going to say. After two months of hard negotiations, the story broke to the press. The picture took up nearly half of the front page. Harry remembered that game; Manchester playing Chelsea in the Premier Leagues. It had been a tough game but he scored the winning goal and that picture had been taken right before he scored. It was a great picture, taking him back momentarily to the absolute euphoria he felt but the headlines were much sweeter.

Two inches of solid black print proclaimed: BIGGEST DEAL IN HISTORY! REAL MADRID SHELLS ₤22 MIL FOR POTTER!

The rest of the article merely detailed his career thus far, starting from the big-eyed seventeen year old subbing in Everton games, his climb to Liverpool, Rovers, Chelsea and then the controversy as Manchester groveled, dug and traded to get Harry onto their team.

Finally, it ended with a recap of his best goals and a melodramatic recount of the World Cup; the first World Cup England had ever won since 1966. He had been twenty and remembered Maradona kissing him on top of the head after the nerve-wracking game against Germany. Argentina had lost in the semi-finals to Brazil. The man was flamboyant like no one Harry knew, not even the twins. But he had declared Harry his true successor.

That had been a great moment. For the next few months, whenever he went on the pitch, he heard Maradona's thick, accented voice proclaiming his greatness.

Flipping to the next page, he scowled as the bright mood he was in dampened. Rita Skeeter had managed to squeak in an article in the corner but the bold print couldn't be ignored. 'HARRY POTTER BURNED OUT ALREADY? Experts Outline The Failure That Awaits Him In Spain.'

He torn his eyes away from that and saw another picture of him shaking hands with the head of Real Madrid.

The phone rang suddenly and Harry jerked spasmodically. He hadn't realized that the kitchen was so quiet. Usually, Ginny was puttering around or the TV was on. Pulse still racing, he walked over and picked up the receiver.

"Sirius you son of a bitch you scared the living daylights out of me."

Throaty laughter on the other line and then, "You're all over the front pages today. The only other time you did that was the World Cup. It's a great shot of you. Ginny must _love_ it." More slightly mocking laughter on the other end because Sirius didn't like the Weasley's all that well and they didn't like him either.

"Actually, I didn't see her today. She left the paper on the counter."

"Haha! Watch out, Harry!"

"What?"

"You know…women like that…slutty…gold-digger. God, do I have to spell this out for you?"

Harry blew out a quick puff of air, shaking his head at Sirius' determination to break them up. "You know, I really don't care. I mean, she's okay but I don't care if she's cheating or whatever. I just break up with her. No loss for either of us."

"…give it up Harry. You've been going out with her for a year saying those same bullshit excuses."

"Whatever. You know I'm a made man right now. Don't have to listen to this crap."

"Yeah, way to be a traitor to this country Harry." And he hung up, laughing. Harry rolled his eyes. That had been the same all across the board with his friends and teammates. His coach had been reluctant to let him go, his team had teased him mercilessly about it all and his own family couldn't really understand it. Harry thought it just a bit rich of them as they weren't English but proudly Italian. Or French because Dumbledore liked the French for some reason.

Ron was the only one who had supported him. After Harry had told him a few days before, Ron had clapped him heavily on the back and beaming, declared that '_now_ Harry Potter is the greatest player in the world'.

"Yeah…yeah…I'm the greatest player in the world right now." Harry tasted those words in his mouth. Greatest player.

It sounded pretty good.

Draco thought it a tad cruel of the sun to be rising right now. Perhaps a little more time. He'd have to look into that idea. Getting up from bed, he stretched languidly, the sun illuminating and making his pale lean body ethereal. He knew he looked good and he knew that Viktor, still sprawled on the bed, knew it too. Small sounds of appreciation came from behind him and as he finished stretching he turned to the Bulgarian man and swaying his hips seductively, crawled back onto the bed.

Viktor's rough hands reached out to grasp at Draco's sides, chest, thighs, roaming wherever they could. Draco merely hummed. He had originally planned to send him out as soon as he woke up but, softened by the touches and promise of good sex first thing in the morning, decided to delay it.

A knock on the door interrupted them and scowling, Draco turned to the door.

"Don't come in!" Turning back to Viktor, he let pale fingers trace the path from his navel down to inner thighs. Viktor gave a shudder and soft groan but then snapped back.

"I really should be going…sorry. It's just, you see, I have practice in the morning and I am already in trouble for getting carded my last game and well…you know how it goes."

Draco knew how it went but still couldn't help feeling annoyed. He began putting on his business suit at the same time Viktor slipped on his gear and shoved the rest into his pack. Draco took a second to admire the muscles on the man's back before tying his tie.

"Come in," he called to the person who was probably standing outside the door waiting. The handle turned and a small Oriental woman came in. She was pretty but not to Draco's tastes. More of his father's tastes which was why she was here. Smuggled out of mainland China to become a concubine, though Lucius preferred to call her a second wife. She had been followed by an entourage of women all from exotic counties because that was what Lucius preferred. The newest one was a Somalian girl who had barely turned seventeen and wanted to escape the warfare in her country.

Draco nodded to Viktor who beat a hasty departure, closing the door softly behind him.

"Yes, Xue?" She flushed and holding out the paper, said slowly, in her broken English, "Harry Potter leave Manchester where Viktor play, _she ma_? I…can not read English. Is very hard." Draco nodded, distracted by the picture of the striker looking absolutely magnificent. His face was twisted up in a snarl and arms flying up, ready to balance and lob the shot that Draco knew would go in. It had been one hell of a match, made all the better by the fact that Chelsea and Manchester had been warring over who got to use Potter in that all important competition. It usually came down to Chelsea and Manchester and bother needed Potter as the tipping point. In the end, Potter chose Manchester and Chelsea went home cursing Manchester, Potter, their smaller budget and the general unluckiness of things.

A small tap at his elbow brought him back to the expectant face of Xue and he began to translate the page for her, pausing at her gasps over the sums of money being handled. Draco snorted softly but to himself. That money was nothing compared to what his father handled everyday.

It was something to take pride in. Their gross profit exceeded the Gryffindor family's for once. Not by much mind you, but it was start. A great and very promising start.

Draco left the newspaper and Xue in his room and went in search of his father.

All Harry could see were flashing lights. It was like that Kanye West song the twins had made him listen to.

_She don't believe in shootin' stars,_

"Mr. Potter! How do you think your teammates are treating you as this is your last season with them?"

"Mr. Potter, are you teammates bitter about your moving on to bigger things?"

"Do you think you can live up to the reputation you created for yourself in England?"

"You will be playing in the next World Cup, Mr. Potter, right?"

"Mr. Potter! Are you nervous-"

"Mr. Potter! Are-

"Mr. Potter!"

"A few questions!"

"Just-"

"Mr. Potter!"

_But she believe in shoes and cars,_

Harry tapped the microphone a few times and the jarring screech it made silenced everyone. Now, only the click and flash of cameras could be heard. Harry cleared his throat. He thought about it.

"My team is fine with me moving on because it happens all the time. It was the same with Ronaldo too, right? With many famous players. Yes, I am playing for England in the World Cup. We have been working on this deal for two months but I was tapped by Madrid even before the fall season. I will live up to what is expected of me and I will play like a player worth 22 million pounds. So no, I am not nervous. I am, however, expectant and ready for an amazing season as well as finishing an amazing season here at home for Manchester United."

_Wood floors in the new apartment,_

"The floor is now open to questions."

_Man, why can't life always be this easy?_

Draco's eyes widened at his father. His father merely gave a small, oily smile in return.

"But he's not affiliated with them! You know he left them all behind!"

"Yes, but they haven't left _him_ behind. Seize upon this, Draco, capitalize and exploit it." Lucius paused, looked Draco over quickly, then sneered, "You don't have the bloody guts in you, _boy_."

Draco bristled at the insult and predictably, felt the need to prove his father right again. He squashed the feeling down though. He had gotten much, much better at resisting his father's manipulations. When he was younger though, he would have done anything for his father's approval. Now…now, as Blaise said, he simply 'didn't give two shits about this bullshit'. It probably wasn't good.

It wasn't that Draco didn't care. Of course he cared. About the Slytherins though. He knew _he_ was much smarter and more patient than his father. He could stand in the shadows and bide his time. His father would be running and screaming everywhere, exposing himself and the Slytherins in general. Idiot. Draco couldn't wait until he was dead.

A loud slam and several clicks later, Draco found himself looking down the barrel of a revolver. He couldn't muster up any excitement. The gun was a pretty old model, the kind Dirty Harry used. He smirked inwardly at that and thanked Pansy for introducing him to that series. He didn't know whether it was loaded or not but wouldn't put it past his father to use a loaded gun.

Was this a test? Pretty crappy one in Draco's opinion. An attention-getter than? God knows Lucius hated being ignored more than anything in the world.

"What do you do now, Draco?" Lucius smirked. The small scar at the side of his mouth that was invisible unless you looked for it stretched.

In a second, Draco had crouched down, pulled out his own gun and shot it at his father's hand causing his father to drop the pistol which Draco smoothly scooped up along with a manila folder detailing his job. Tucking the folder under his arm, he backed out of the office slowly, keeping his eyes on his father's hands and leering face the whole time.

The pistol was level with Lucius' head until Draco slammed the office door shut and stormed past his father's surprised and illegally bought on the slave market Russian secretary.

_Man, why can't life always be this easy?_

A/N: If you have any questions, just ask in the reviews box. And REVIEW. Please. I can't improve if I don't know what to improve on.


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